


Spiral

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Secret Santa Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dick is being difficult again.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 197
Collections: Anonymous





	Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> So. It's sort of a mishmash between dubcon titans year one dick and top shota dick (two of the optional prompts). I hope you like it!

Dick is being difficult again.

He's walking with that lilt, that little sway to his hips, and he flops down on a chair with his legs spread, his body loose and lax. Bruce's breathing hitches at the sight of those smooth firm thighs where they meet the panties. Dick looks at him, head tilted up, like he _knows_. "I fell down today," he says. "Pretty bad."

The Cave is silent, just the occasional screech of a bat and the drip of water from stalactites. Bruce raises an eyebrow; Dick's lie is so transparent a bird could smack into it.

"I can't see how badly I'm bruised, though. Can you check for me?" Dick continues, and it should be illegal, how he gazes at Bruce with those sultry, hooded eyes. How does a thirteen-year-old even manage that? Where did he _learn_ it?

Noticing at all should be enough to send a man to hell.

"Please?" Dick says, a pleading note to his voice.

Bruce gets up abruptly from his seat, the wheels squawking over the floor. "Get up," he says. "Turn around. Hands on the arms of the chair."

Dick doesn't scramble. Of course he doesn't. He slides off, slowly, languorously, and arches his back as he turns around and bends down. Bruce's hand reaches, as though of its own accord, and squeezes a handful of Dick's round, supple ass. Dick's spine tenses and he gives a barely audible gasp; Bruce can see him getting hard.

His fingers hook over the edge of the panties, take their time pulling them down. Dick wriggles, impatient, and Bruce leans down to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the top of one of his cheeks. He keeps sucking on the flesh, hard enough to bruise, till the panties are around his bony ankles. The fact that he is barefoot adds an air of surprising fragility to him. _And innocence_ , a dark voice in his head adds. _He's innocent, and you're taking that from him_.

"You've got some scrapes," says Bruce, running his teeth over Dick's flesh. "We'll have to take care of that."

Dick just pants in response, almost moaning. He squeaks when Bruce plants a firm kiss on his pink little hole, tasting salt and musk, and breathes, "Oh God," when Bruce begins to use his tongueteethlips, obscene, slurping sounds peppering the air. Bruce probes Dick's entrance with the tip of his tongue, shifting and prodding till it works its way inside, where it is hot, so hot and tight.

He wants to unbutton his pants and ram himself straight inside, without warning, wants to hear Dick _scream_ as he takes more than he can, as his stomach bulges with the girth of Bruce's cock.

But it is soon. Too soon.

He does not even use his fingers, instead easing his tongue over Dick's twitching hole, down his perineum, and sucking and nibbling on his upper thighs. He's always loved Dick's thighs, how a sliver of soft fat cushions the powerful muscles.

Dick's hand snakes towards his leaking cock, but Bruce slaps it away. "With my mouth or not at all," he growls into Dick's ear, and Dick practically sobs, trying to move his hips, but Bruce holds them in place and returns his attention to his entrance. He squeezes and massages Dick's cheeks as he works, and it is minutes before Dick comes, puddles of seed dripping onto the chair. Bruce continues to eat him out, even when Dick is crying out, oversensitive, his legs shaking like he's about to collapse. That shouldn't turn Bruce on so much.

At length he puts one last kiss over Dick's hole, straightening. Dick is still bent over the chair, panting, his shorts now hanging off one ankle. Bruce indulges himself with a smack to Dick's ass, making him yelp. The heavy guilt is there, simmering beneath the surface; when it emerges, it will swallow him whole. But for now, he says, "Clean up," and leaves without glancing back.

He considers jerking off, but then decides against it; he wants to bend Dick over and fuck him till he passes out, till he is only a limp warm weight sliding up and down over Bruce's cock, and anything less will seem like limp disappointment. He resigns himself to a cold shower and a book to take his mind off it.

It is only hours later, when he has slipped into bed, that he realises he may have started a downward spiral.

The door to his room cracks open at 23:30 hours, a line of golden light painting the wooden floor. Dick steps in, swimming in his loose nightclothes. He tiptoes across to Bruce's bed, stands by the side. Bruce sits up, looking at Dick, anticipation churning in his gut. He knows why Dick is here, and he should turn him away, but one sin or one hundred, he's damned either way.

"Do that again," Dick says.

Bruce slants him a closed look. "No." He doesn't know why he says that. To push Dick to annoyance. To give him a chance to turn away. To assure himself that Dick wants this as much as he does.

Dick scowls. "Please?"

"No."

Dick leans over, undeterred, a determined expression on his face. His strong little hand grips Bruce's thigh through the blanket. "Please?"

"No." Bruce is half-smiling now, amused at their little game.

Dick has never been an obedient child. He clambers onto the bed, swinging a leg over Bruce's hips to straddle him. He grinds down, gritting his teeth. Bruce only just manages to bite back a moan. It is not long before the rutting isn't enough and Dick slides down, peeling the blanket away. Bruce watches, enraptured, as Dick yanks off Bruce's sleeping pants and takes his thick, veined cock in his hand.

He should stop him.

Dick strokes it, tentatively, measuring the length with his eyes, mouth parted as though he is unsure of what to do. Bruce lets him experiment, skimming his icy fingers over the veins, using his thumb to smear precome over the head. Dick bends down to lick it, tentatively, and Bruce bites back a curse. After just another couple of licks, Dick gets the head in his mouth, careful with his teeth.

Bruce doesn't do anything, doesn't put a hand on his head to stroke his hair or force his warm wet mouth down to the base. Instead he sits there watching, and it's incredible, the sight of him, this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy tripping over himself to pleasure Bruce, his inexperience doing nothing to lessen the pleasure. It only makes it better, somehow.

 _Does your jaw hurt?_ would be the caring thing to say. Does it matter if he is caring? He has already come this far, light-years beyond the moral event horizon.

Eventually Dick pulls off, gasping a bit, and looks up at Bruce with glittering eyes. His lips are shiny with spit and precome, and Bruce resists the urge to plunder his mouth with his tongue. Dick doesn't really give him the chance, anyway, pulling off his own pants and dropping them to the floor.

Dick sinks onto him, face screwed up in discomfort.

"Dick – " says Bruce, in a pale imitation of a protest. He wants to grab those hips hard enough for bruises to bloom and shove him down the rest of the way. He does not.

"I prepared," Dick grits out, and Bruce nearly comes then and there, at the thought.

Dick is nothing if not stubborn, and he works himself down, till Bruce is fully sheathed inside him, and it's incredible, it's _incredible_ , how hot he is inside, how tight and slick. Dick braces himself with his hands on either side of Bruce's waist, shuddering.

It is when Dick begins to move, tentatively at first, then with more rhythm and confidence, that Bruce throws back his head and a groan slips from between his teeth. Dick looks softer this way, his body tilted forward, his mouth parted and his eyes fluttering.

"We're going," Dick moans, the first words he has spoken since he climbed onto the bed, "to do this again. I don't care what you say."

"Don't be a brat."

"Don't be an old man," Dick shoots back, a little breathlessly.

"I'm not indulging you again." The warm, wet slide over his cock is heavenly.

"You are. You will." Dick emphasises his point by grinding down and rotating his hips in little circles. Bruce sees stars. " _Fuck_."

"Language," says Bruce without thinking. They are so far past _language_.

Dick laughs. His black curls are plastered to his forehead with sweat. Then his brow furrows as his movements become more frantic, jerkier. The rhythmic, heavy slap of skin on skin is obscene, punctuated by little cries and moans. Bruce should be horrified, but he's turned on, he's so turned on, he's going to come straight inside Dick, coat his walls with his seed.

Dick's cries start to become louder, less inhibited, his head thrown back. Bruce bites his lip, silent as his cock twitches and he comes. Dick's eyes fly open and he gasps, no doubt at the alien feel of rope after rope of hot viscous fluid shooting inside him. He comes only seconds later, all but shouting, and Bruce has to reach over and clamp a hand over his mouth.

Dick slumps over, panting, before draping himself right over Bruce, his damp hair tickling Bruce's nose. Bruce's cock slips out, and he can feel his come oozing out, greasing their thighs. The image is almost enough to make him hard again.

After a minute Bruce gets up and grabs some tissues from his bedside table to wipe them down. "I need a shower," he mutters.

Almost immediately, Dick is at his side, both hands on Bruce's forearm. "I can come with you," he says.

"You're insatiable," Bruce retorts, but he's smiling.


End file.
